Never Heroes: Act I

Chapter 4

Never Heroes

Act I

IV: Escapes

Hazel eyes scanned the room. Nothing was out of the ordinary. No one suspected anything. Walter's dedication to his friend's insanity was going to get him in trouble. It was Tuesday evening, well past most normal work hours. He had left his office and traveled to a different building on his company's campus, hoping to find it empty. Instead, there were still a handful of faithful workaholics desperate to get an entire week's worth of work done in a day just to keep up with deadlines. Everyone made a big deal when he first entered, because men of stature rarely came down to the cubicle hellhole known as the 300 Building.

A peon from that dreaded place was about to be fired the next day, which left with the computer for him to use. He figured if he was going to do some digging, it would be best to use a computer from a man already on his way out the door than on his own. To those that were still hard at work, he claimed he was just down there to troubleshoot a few issues with the system. No one dared to question him, though most knew that "troubleshooting" was quite a few paygrades below his title.

"Hey, Terry, did you get that QC check on the new filtering system?"

"Which one?"

"Personal data."

"Yeah, which one?"

The best part about being a hotshot in a company that's one of the main architects for information gathering and classification software is that it's easy to know the way around all the annoying security measures. Especially for Walter, who happened to be one of the lead programmers on the project. Even better is when the number one client and user of that software is the U.S. Government. All the information ever available or ever produced by any individual was at his fingertips. Aside from a very small number of hacktivists that had the talent to protect themselves, he could've stolen any identity, mixed up a prescription, or crashed a smart car. Technology really was a frightening thing.

A smile grew on his face for just a brief second as he thought about how easy it would be to disrupt a few lives with a single click. Mentally he smacked himself. That wasn't a good thing to do and it wasn't the right thing to do. There was work to be done. A lot of data needed to be shifted through in a quick amount of time. As he had said before, data never really gets deleted.

"Uh, hey, Terry? Mind if I borrow the beta for that filtering system?" Walter asked.

From his post behind his cubicle he watched to see exactly who "Terry" was. He had no idea who any of these people were. Eager to please, Terry had stood up from his chair and said, "Of course, Mister Ray! I'll send it right over to you!"

"Thanks!" he said with a sincere smile.

"Man, Mister Ray is a lot younger than I thought he'd be."

"Yeah, I had no idea who he was when he walked in."

"He's cute, though. I'd take him home."

"Ask him, he'll probably say yes. I hear he goes home with a new girl every night."

I can hear every word, morons, he thought as the remaining workers continued their gossip about him. A mental note was made to terminate the balding guy with the robot toy on his desk for making that last comment. The woman in the pencil skirt wasn't exceptional but good looking enough she could stay. Terry would get a corrective action for transferring a beta program unencrypted, whether it was a secure server or not. Maybe he'd fire him, too. There were way too many suits in this company and not enough skirts.

Jeez, Walt, fueling their own rumors, aren't you? he thought in disgust. A hardy shake of his head and he was focused on the task at hand. The software was booted without issue. Within seconds it was pinpointing every use of the term "Interfector" ever used by any so-called news agency so long as it had internet access. A few dozen conspiracy sites were all that popped up within the last five or so years, but the further back he got, the more returns he got. This continued; ten years, then fifteen, until finally one particular sentence caught his eye.

"Interfector Death Toll Reaches…"

"Answer your phone! Answer your phone! Answer your phone!"

The god-awful ringtone Chip had convinced him to put on his cellphone blasted out and startled him. Now all eyes were on him as he fumbled his phone out of his pocket, nearly bounced it off the desk, and then somehow managed to corral it in just as he slide his thumb across the screen to answer it.

Even tone and steady voice emitted from him when he greeted, "Hello?"

"Yes, Ray? Can you meet me at the 300 Building reception desk?" his boss requested.

"Of course, sir. I'll be there soon."

Word flew fast so it was no wonder his boss knew he was at the 300 building. The question was: why did he want to talk to him? Generally speaking, Walter was left to his own devices. Still, he wasn't about to keep the man waiting. Before he left, he popped a drive into the USB port and transferred a few pages of information pulled by the software and then shut the program down. As he left he told the workers thanks again and wished them a goodnight; in chorus they returned the sentiments.

Waiting for him at the reception desk was the short old man that had called him. Beside him stood a middle aged man he didn't recognize and the overnight security guard. Unsuspecting Walter strutted up the trio and said, "How can I help you, sir?"

Daggers were being glared at him from all three men. It was his boss that answered, "I got a call from higher up. I'm supposed to detain you until a U.S. Marshall gets here haul you away. What the hell have you been doing?"

"Well, with all due respect, there a few legalities here I could use, but… Bye!"

Whatever the hell snapped inside his head sent him barreling past the three men and right through the exit door. Shouts from the security officer and the middle-aged man roared behind him. Outside, his feet pounded the blacktop without a single look back. At first he had intended to run to his car, but the sight of two police officers near it had him twist and turn toward the street.

Pitch black and with limited street lamps, it was a terrible place to run around at night but perfect for escaping. Traffic was always busy on that four lane road regardless of the time of day and he used that to his advantage. A few perfectly timed dashes and he was on the other side. A glance back and saw a few men in pursuit. Hesitation was no longer an option. The first thing to do was ditch his cellphone, which was promptly tossed into the busy road next to him.

Then it was back to running. A million options passed through his head but none of them were doable. This wasn't an action movie. There was no place to hide. Motels, two restaurants, and empty field were his only options if he wanted to get off that sidewalk. Up ahead, a bridge elevated the roadway above a frequented railroad. A train passed by every night right before 2200. He checked his watch – which, he noted, would need to be tossed right away as well – and read the time as 2203hours.

Shit. Missed the train, he thought. It was bad luck to miss his best escape option by mere minutes. Ready to let his frustrations out on his watch, he ripped the band and was ready to toss it. Suddenly, he stopped and realized his luck.

It was a total b***h to flip through the options on that tiny thing in the dark while running for dear life. It beeped and he spoke into it, "Hideout. Meet me. Emergency." After it was confirmed to have been sent, he dropped the watch and then stomped on it.

Walter ran back into the roadway. Honks and curses followed him as the traffic had to grind to a halt. He ignored the ruckus. A pickup truck at the intersection up ahead had caught his attention. As it drove past him, he prayed for good luck, latched onto the tailgate and perched himself on the bumper.

Confused, the two men in pursuit had lost track of him the moment he went back into traffic. They couldn't see him clinging in terror onto the tailgate. Their focus was solely on the watch he had discarded. The screen was damaged, so it would be some time before they saw his message. Even if they did, they wouldn't understand its meaning.

Over thirty minutes away, Chip's phone beeped, signaling an incoming text message. Since he was driving, he ignored it. A red light had him crawl to a halt, and he thought to check his phone but Emily stopped him when she whined, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

That entire car trip had been the most awkward experience of Chip's life. Reluctant Emily had agreed to help with the nightly drug run because she desperately needed money. Chip's emotional begging might have influenced her a bit, too. In the end, she justified it by saying that Sarah would want her to keep Chip safe, so it was best that she was there in case something were to happen.

"I'm sorry," Chip had automatically answered.

"What are you apologizing for?" she harshly asked.

His face grew red once he realized he wasn't really sure himself. "Um, just. You know? Everything?" A nervous laugh followed which she scoffed at.

"Whatever got you doing this, anyway? You were the most boring straight laced person I had ever met. Aside from Walter, anyway," she said.

"I don't really know," he said honestly. "I had a really hard time finding a job, and we had a baby on the way so – "

"Wait, what? Why haven't I heard about this?"

"It was supposed to be a secret."

The soft tone and the way his voice lowered itself to almost a whisper broke her heart. She wasn't sure what to say. "That sucks. Sorry."

"It's fine."

Red changed to green and he was off again. It wasn't fine but she didn't want to argue with him. Something in his eyes went distant as memories were conjured up again. She had to remind herself that Sarah had been dead for only a week. Chip probably hadn't even fully processed that yet; she knew she hadn't. Maybe saying "it's fine" out loud helped keep him sane in some weird way.

"Life sucks," she said, mainly to herself.

"Yeah, it really does," he agreed, again in a quiet tone.

Once more they managed to hit another red light. Emily noted that Chip apparently had terrible luck with stoplights and decided she was driving next time. A sniffle came from Chip and she said, "I know I'm a b***h, but it's okay to cry."

"I know. Not right now, though. Maybe after this we can head back to my place and I'll cry my heart out, okay?"

Habit begged her to roll her eyes at his remark but somehow, she managed to smile at him. As the red light stayed steady past the thirty-second mark, he reached toward his console and grabbed his cellphone. Not three seconds later he gunned it through the light and took a harsh left turn onto some weird backroad Emily had probably never been down.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she screamed as she felt the seatbelt hold her in place as they rounded another sharp corner.

"Walter's in trouble," he announced.

There was no reason for her to attempt to talk after that. One thing about Chip that everyone knew: if he felt like someone was in trouble, especially his friends, he was there. Even if it required, say, crawling through the ventilation system at their crummy high school to spring someone from being "unjustly detained in detention" for "accidentally" throwing a carton of milk across the cafeteria, he would do it. At that moment, his entire being was focused just on saving Walter from whatever stupid situation he got himself into, nothing else.

After Chip took a rarely used side street toward the river front, she realized where they were going. Lights faded from sight the further down they got. A sign that read, "Park Hours" was just a blur as Chip sped down that bumpy road. Vagabonds, druggies, and prostitutes controlled the park at night these days. As children, it was their home away from; a secret sanctuary in the middle of the town, where swing sets let them touch heaven and monkey bars tested their dexterity. A shiver hit her hard and unexpectedly. The nervous quake could have been from memories or the anxiety of wondering what laid in the dark.

Chip slammed on the brakes and was out of his car within a beat. Emily hesitated, unsure what he was doing or whether it was a good idea to leave all their drugs unattended. When Chip didn't look back, she decided she was going with him whether he wanted her to or not.

Just past a beaten down gazebo there was an opening in the brush. A slight slope lead to a small drop off that required at least mild athletic ability to maneuver safely. Large rocks, drifted wood, and broken beer bottles waited for those that tempted fate. One wrong slip and you either cracked your head open or took a swim in the cold river water. Fortunately, they had been down that path so many times in their youth that they could navigate it even in the dead of the night.

The moment Chip's feet touched the end of the path hands reached through the darkness and had him in a wrist lock. Ready to defend, Emily swung at the unknown attacker. It was deflected effortlessly. The move forced her to lose her balance. In an attempt to regain control, she moved her foot to a different rock. Wet, the rock was slippery; her footing was gone completely and she tumbled into the water.

The sound of her voice as she coughed up the dirty water that she had accidentally inhaled was enough for the attacker to cease. "Sorry! I'm on edge!"

"f**k, Walter, what the hell, I nearly drowned," Emily cursed. He offered her a hand and of course, she swatted it away. "Why the f**k are we out here right now, anyway?"

"I need you to toss your phones," he ordered. It was too sudden and dramatic request for either to oblige. Their silent, confused stared was enough for him to explain, "The government's after me. They're probably after you, too. They probably already know we're here."

"I knew it!" Chip cried out, happy to finally be vindicated.

"I think it has something to do with the Interfector," Walter announced.

"Nope. f**k this. I'm done," Emily said. Her hands were in the air, her back was turned and she was ready to climb back up the embankment. "You guys can keep your childish fantasies. I'm going back to the real world."

"What if this isn't the real world, though?" Walter questioned. "What if reality – or, rather, our perception of reality – has been manipulated into something else? There's only one entity with that capability that I know of. The government. And if agents waiting for me after a two minute peek into stored data is any indication, we're at the center of this."

"So it's up to us to fix it," Chip decided. Walter didn't physically or verbally acknowledge the idea, but something about his eyes made it clear he stood behind Chip.

A disturbing sense of déjà vu struck her at her very core. She sighed and said, "f**k it. It's not like selling drugs to stupid college kids is any more noteworthy than fighting the government. What's the plan?"